


And I Love The Way You Hurt Me

by NohrianScum (OrderOfRevan)



Series: Let Me Be Your Killer King [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Elevator Sex, Frottage, M/M, No orgasm, Yakuza/Cop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 23:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrderOfRevan/pseuds/NohrianScum
Summary: After over a month of harassment, Xander finally gives in to Ryoma again.And how can he not, when the man is as beautiful as sin and smells like home?





	And I Love The Way You Hurt Me

There was a moment where Xander wondered if the bastard hadn’t planned this all out on purpose, but the look of surprise on his face was honestly enough to dispel Xander of that idea fairly quickly. He looked completely unprepared, leaning against the guard rail as if he belonged there, his bright red and white shirt with its obnoxious pinstripes practically blinding.

Not as blinding as his smile, of course. 

Ryoma recovered relatively quickly, crossing his arms over his chest, the sleeves riding up to show the barest hint of dark ink against his skin. He knew the signs, had known the signs that night in the club, but had denied them to get what he wanted out of the situation, to have a moment of release in a life that had more regulations and strictures than the US Penal Code. 

Hell, if it hadn’t been for his afternoon meeting with Agent Henry, he wouldn’t have even been here right now. Xander might as well have been at home, wallowing in the despair of his days off, wondering what to do with himself when there wasn’t work to take his mind off of his own situation. Instead, he was taking an elevator with the man who had made it his life’s mission to ensure there was a repeat of that night’s events. 

And he was yakuza when organized crime was the one thing Xander really couldn’t afford to get involved with, as Henry had explained over an afternoon cup of coffee. He really, really couldn’t afford to spend his time indulging men with horrible hair and bad tastes in shirts when this might be his one chance to really set his life straight after all the mistakes he’d made as an idiot kid. 

“Officer Blackwater,” Ryoma greeted with his usual smile as the doors closed behind him. “Here to meet a lover?” He grinned, and Xander didn’t need to look at him to be able to see his face, toothy smile reflected in the mirrored walls of the elevator. “I hope it’s me.” 

“I’m not here to chat, Sumeragi,” he said, aggressively pressing the ‘ground floor’ button to vent his anxieties, something about Ryoma always setting him on edge. 

“I told you not to call me by my family name,” the man said, clicking his tongue and brushing a strand of wild hair behind his ear. “I didn’t get to hear you moan it for me last time, and that’s a damn crying shame.” 

Xander said nothing, tapping his foot against the carpeted ground, focusing instead on the industrial office smell, tinged with just a hint of chlorine, and the sound of the fluorescent lights above humming. He refused to look at anything other than the heavy, black doors, lamenting the fact that the cafe in question had been on the fifth floor, relieved when the elevator finally lurched into motion. 

“So it’s the silent treatment now, huh?” Ryoma asked. “Come on, babe. You felt so good inside of me. I want a repeat performance. Maybe one in a bed this time.” His laugh sounded throughout the elevator, and to Xander’s great shame, he found that he liked the way the sound shivered down his spine and thought about all the ways he’d like to shut Ryoma up. “If you say yes, I’ll let you tie me to the headboard and fuck me until I cry.” 

“I’d prefer not to,” Xander muttered, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when the elevator lurched again. 

Above them, the lights flickered and then dimmed, and on the keypad, the green 3 remained illuminated. 

Xander’s stomach sank. 

“Fuck!” he growled, slamming his palm against the door hard enough to bruise when he heard the ventilation fans slowly click to life, the elevator lurching one more time before it ground to a steady halt, the sound deafening. 

In the mirror, Xander could see Ryoma grinning like a cat with a feather sticking out of its mouth and braced himself for the physical contact he knew was coming. 

“Funny how that’s exactly what I was thinking,” came Ryoma’s voice from behind him, too close, as a hand reached out to brush down his hip, teasingly slow. “You know, I’m not just bothering you at work for fun, right? It’s a pain in the ass, getting out every time. A complete nuisance.” 

Xander tensed, a single hand still braced against the door, the palm stinging, though he was distracted by the feeling of his shirt being tugged free of his pants, that hand reaching underneath the fabric to stroke his skin. Ryoma’s fingers were hot, and Xander drew in a sharp breath, trying hard not to think about what it had felt like to have him as he focused instead on his breathing. 

It had felt so good, and the part of him that had done things like this for release in the past wanted to chase the heat of those fingers until he came, to press against that perfect ass and listen to the way he pitched his voice just so. He’d had many partners, but none quite as explosive as Ryoma, and none who had chased him like this, just for the sake of his body and his company and not anything he could  _ give _ them. 

“ _ You’re _ inconvenienced by it?” Xander asked with a snort. 

“But it’s worth it,” Ryoma breathed, his hand circling Xander’s body, rubbing against his chest, the other working on tugging his shirt out of his pants completely. “Every second with you is worth it. This has to be providence, Xander, you and me in this elevator. The gods want us to be together.” 

“The gods?” Xander said, arching an eyebrow as he felt Ryoma press against his back, overwhelmingly warm and close in this elevator, burning like a space heater. “I’m sorry, but I’m Catholic. Perhaps try a hail Mary?” 

“It was worth a try,” said Ryoma with a laugh, pressing both of his hands flat against Xander’s chest and slowly beginning to tease and pinch his nipples, Xander’s stomach growing tight at the feeling, warmth pooling in his groin. “You know, you’ve already lost, right? You’re letting me do this. You want me so badly I can practically smell you getting hard.” 

He felt his face flush, his head dropping as he stared at the floor, and somehow the shame only made him hotter. Xander wanted this, Ryoma was right. Every time Ryoma showed up, grinning in a way so attractive and cocky that Xander wanted to kiss the expression off his face, it got harder and harder to resist. 

Whether he was in the back of a squad car or grinning at Xander through the bars of a jail cell, or even a smirking reflection in a mirror, Ryoma was always attractive. He would probably be just as attractive if he were bloody and bruised, or if he looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. That was just the sort of confoundingly alluring presence that Ryoma was. 

He was beautiful and dangerous, and Xander… 

Xander liked beautiful and dangerous things. 

No matter how much they ended up ruining things for him, in the end. 

“I do want you,” Xander said at last, voice choking between his lips painfully as Ryoma slowly started to grind against his ass. “I think about you at night, when I have nothing else to do. I think about the way you sounded, how you looked, how you felt, and I want to fuck you again and again, and then… I want you to fuck me. Until I can’t move. Until nothing else matters.”

He felt Ryoma’s breath hitch, fingers leaving his chest to grasp his hips hard as Ryoma swung them both around and pressed Xander to the glass. Before Xander even realized what was happening, his shirt had been unbuttoned and thrown to the floor and Ryoma was sucking and pressing hungry kisses to his back, their hips pressed flush together, the outline of Ryoma’s dick fitting well against his ass. 

“Babe,” Ryoma moaned, “babe, say it again. Say how much you want me, and I’m yours. I won’t fuck around with anyone else. I just want you. I want you so much I can’t stand it.”

The words caught Xander off guard, sending more heat through him, his own face staring stricken at him from the mirror. He was already flushed from the face down, chest red, Ryoma’s arms wrapped around him again, securely and with an intensity he’d rarely experienced with his lovers, a possessiveness that  verged on tender. 

The juxtaposition with his dirty words was enough to make Xander grind back against Ryoma hard, his mouth falling open, “I want you,” he panted. “I want you, Ryoma. I’ve wanted you since you let me take you so hard on that couch in the back of that club. But you shouldn’t get involved with me.”

Ryoma spun him around, pressed him against the glass, caged him between his body and the wall, his expression defiant. He was about to open his mouth, to explain himself, but Ryoma cut him off with a glare, his hands pressed hard against Xander’s flesh. He thought he might have nail marks there a long time after the elevator started moving again, and he found he didn’t mind. 

It was like a souvenir. 

A reminder of the vacations he sometimes took from his own mind. 

“Why?” he demanded, and then kissed Xander before he could answer as Xander reached out to tug and Ryoma’s clothing, wanting to feel more of him, hardly caring that he could barely breathe and that everything was humid with their body heat. “Because you’re a cop? Because I’m a criminal?” 

Xander seized Ryoma’s wrists, and this time he was the one who spun them, pressing Ryoma flat against the glass and holding him there. Slowly, but with great force, he leaned heavily against Ryoma’s back, cupping him through his already tight pants and stroking his fingers over the fabric, listening to the way Ryoma’s breath hitched and how his soft gasps turned into desperate whines as he rutted against Xander’s hand. 

The friction he generated was perfect. 

“Because,” Xander growled into his ear, nipping at it, “I don’t get to keep the things I want.” 

He felt Ryoma still for a moment, barely enough to draw in a breath, before he was pressing against Xander even harder, his back arching. From this angle, Xander couldn’t quite see his face, so he drew back, pulling Ryoma with him until only his hands pressed against the reflective surface before unceremoniously dropping both of their pants to the ground. Wasting no time, he moved back, wrapping his hand around Ryoma’s cock and starting to pump, reveling in the noises the other man made. 

In the mirror, his face was even better. 

Flushed, strands of his ridiculously hair clinging to his forehead, his mouth open as he pressed back against Xander’s hips, meeting every grind with movement of his own, his dark eyes were wild and hungry. He was the hunter, exultant that the chase was finally over, moaning loudly as Xander teased his thumb over the slit of Ryoma’s cock, spreading the precum there over the head. Peppering the side of Ryoma’s neck with kisses, he breathed in the scent of sex in the humid air and focused on the burning pleasure that shuddered through his body at every shift against Ryoma’s ass. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

Grunting, he pulled back for a moment, unbuttoning Ryoma’s shirt with efficient fingers and throwing it on the ground to join his own, running his hands admiringly all over Ryoma’s body. Xander shivered as he pressed back up against his unlikely lover’s back, enjoying the looking of his tattoos even more now that could see them better, a web of images in ink, branding him the way Xander wanted to brand him by painting him in cum. 

The thought was enough to make him press harder against Ryoma, groaning loudly as a spike of something altogether possessive shot through him like lightning. 

“You can keep me,” Ryoma panted as he spread his legs a bit wider. “Babe… Babe… Gods… I can’t stop thinking about you. This is so good. So… Fucking… Good….” 

Xander opened his mouth, sucking on Ryoma’s shoulder, watching as his own eyes smouldered and Ryoma’s head fell back, his cock practically weeping as perfectly debauched noises fell from his lips. He loved it, loved the way this looked, loved the curve of Ryoma’s back, the shape of his stomach, how broad his shoulders were. Even his mess hair felt great when it was pressed against Xander’s chest, when he could breathe in the scent of it, a scent overpoweringly of  cigarette smoke and cologne nostalgic and comforting. 

It made Ryoma smell like home. 

And right now, he was the only place Xander wanted to be. 

“So are you,” Xander finally managed as he pulled his mouth away, pressing his forehead against Ryoma’s skin and groaning as he felt himself edging closer to completion. “So hot, and so … Eager. I can’t think around you.”

It was a bad thing, but right now it hardly seemed to matter with how hot Ryoma was, how his sweat and the sounds he was making were just sinfully perfect. He felt like he was being pulled back down into hell and he didn’t mind in the slightest, as long as he could burn together with this man. 

“Darling,” he groaned against Ryoma’s skin, pressing his lips against the bruise that was forming on his shoulder, pretty and purple, “oh, darling. Make noise for me. I want to hear you call my name.” 

They were both so close… 

Suddenly, the lights flickered, the entire room turning brighter in a single instant, a stark reminder of exactly where they were and what they were doing. With a jolt, he pushed away, reaching down to pull his pants back up, hoping to god he’d be able to hide the damn stain, knowing that he would regret not coming here and now later, and trying to ignore the dismayed look on Ryoma’s face, though he could see it clearly in the mirror. 

Stooping low, he tossed Ryoma’s own shirt at his face, slipping back into his own and trying to fix the buttons. It was only when the ventilation shut off that Ryoma seemed to realize why Xander had stopped and what was happening, stumbling around as he swore loudly, quickly redressing himself. 

On the elevator’s button pad, the three flickered back on and the entire chamber started to move. 

It couldn’t have been fifteen minutes. 

Reaching up, Xander ran one of his hands through his hair, thinking about how heavy the badge he wore was… And how he had no business with a man like Ryoma, but he couldn’t… He couldn’t stop himself. There was nothing else familiar in his world now but the sense of desperation and the rising and setting of the sun, and Ryoma was like a breath of fresh air, bringing risk back into his life, letting him chase that feeling of fulfilment that had long been absent. 

Sometimes, he thought if he wasn’t doing something stupid, there was no point in living.

He could never just keep his head low and swallow the bullet, but… 

Seizing Ryoma’s wrist, he pulled him closer, hand fisting in his hair as he kissed him, swallowing his sounds of surprise. Nipping playfully at Ryoma’s lips as he drew away, he cast the other man a smile, one that might have been more devious than he expected, from the way Ryoma stared and shuddered under his touch. 

“I’m off tomorrow, too,” he said quietly as the two lit up with a soft chime. “Meet me in this hotel’s lobby in an hour. I’m going to book us a room and take care of a few errands.”

And then, as the door open with a blast of cold, harsh reality, Xander stepped out into the tiled hallway, watching as Ryoma stared at him, dumbfounded. Against his better judgement, he found he liked that look on that face, and hoped to make him wear it plenty of times over the next two days. 

After all, if he was going to indulge one last time before he put it all behind him for good, it might as well be with someone he enjoyed. 

Turning around, jamming his hands into his pockets, Xander smiled. 


End file.
